


all work and no play

by mcwho



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Boss/Employee Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sexual Frustration, Sort Of, bucky is 20, steve is in his mid-thirties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-03-20 11:25:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18991702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcwho/pseuds/mcwho
Summary: Another thing that drives Bucky a little crazy is that Steve has acar. InNew York. Yes, he knows, multi-millionaire, ex-Captain America, whatever, whatever – the point is, Bucky wants Steve to do things to him in that Audi. Sex things. He has very specific fantasies.or: Bucky’s adventure in flirting and communication





	all work and no play

**Author's Note:**

> this is different to anything i’ve ever written but i literally could not stop thinking about this concept until i had written every single bit of this 8k monster so here it is
> 
> tag-reading is advised
> 
> EDIT: i just realised this didn’t have a summary on it for a solid 4 hours or so, fixed now

Bucky woke up late and broke and thus unable to purchase his usual shitty cup of coffee, so now he’s cranky, tired and being forced to watch an equally cranky and tired-looking man give their small group a demonstration of Tony Stark’s latest tech project.

At least, they had _said_ it was his latest. Bucky’s pretty sure this thing has been around for a while. It’s taking forever to respond to basic commands, and Bucky figures the mind who created the suit that’s supposed to be one of their planet’s first lines of defence probably has done better work than this recently. Unfortunately, it must too good to be observed by the kids from Contemporary Science 101, so. This is what they’ve got. 

Bucky sighs, glancing around at his classmates faces, each portraying varying levels of scepticism and boredom, then leans over to mumble, “I’m gonna go find a bathroom,” to his professor, who looks like he’s trying very hard to be excited about the robot who he’s pretty sure the demonstrator had just called _Dummy_. 

His professor nods distractedly and Bucky slopes away, out the door and up the stairs, away from the workshop, only partially concerned about the fact that he has no idea where a bathroom might even be. This is the Avengers Facility. Do superheroes even pee? He’s heard rumours that the Hulk just photosynthesises and gets his green hue from the chlorophyll. Aside from that, is it even okay for him to be walking around like this? Should he have gotten some sort of hall pass? 

He ambles on. 

The Facility is _huge_ , and expensive-looking, all floor-to-ceiling windows, marble floors, statues that look ugly but probably cost more than his tuition. He reaches out to touch one as he passes and briefly entertains the thought of selling it so he can buy himself some goddamn–

Coffee. 

The smell of it draws him in before he’s fully aware, his legs carrying him towards the door, which has been left ajar. He peers inside and it’s empty, an open-plan kitchen-living-room setup. There’s a coffee pot on the counter, still steaming. Bucky never stood a chance. 

He glances behind himself one more time and then makes for it, heart thudding – he’ll be in and out before anyone even realises. He hadn’t even seen a single person during his short walk. It’ll be fine. He rummages in the glossy cabinets and finds himself a large mug that says, _I Fought An Alien Army And All I Got Was This Lousy Mug_. Some more rummaging and he finds a pot of sugar, and proceeds to make himself a cup of coffee so sweet that it would cause Nat, if present, to tell him disgustedly that he doesn’t deserve the Bean. 

Bucky sips and lets out a satisfied sigh. That’s some _good fucking coffee_.

He’s about halfway through the mug, leaning against the counter while starting to feel some semblance of life again when he hears voices. 

“Oh, of course, how could I forget how much you love to suffer in silence–“ 

“A little clutter’s what you call suffering?” 

“Steve, I stepped into your kitchen and I saw Hell.” 

“Alright, don’t you think that’s a little dramatic–“ 

“You know what’s dramatic? The fact that you seem to have convinced yourself that the minute you accept help, you’re some snooty upperclass self-important hotshot.” 

“I can clean up after myself, I don’t need–“ 

“Evidently you can’t–” 

“–anyone coming around, picking up after me, I’ve got two hands of my own that work perfectly fine–“ 

“Steve, you’re a busy man, you clearly haven’t got the time–“

“–and I’d rather just deal with a messy kitchen, or house in general than–“ 

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark are suddenly standing at the entrance to the kitchen-slash-living-room, staring at Bucky, who had ditched the coffee and propelled himself to the other side of the room to stand and look as suspicious as possible instead, because apparently he is a fucking moron. 

They both blink at him. 

“Are you going to try and kill us?” Tony asks. “Because if so, I’m hoping you have backup. Then again, big things _can_ come in small packages. You haven’t been bitten by any radioactive spiders or anything have you?” 

“Uh,” Bucky says, then shakes his head. “No. No spiders, sir.” 

“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” he says. “JARVIS, who is this?” 

“A Mr James Barnes, sir. Part of the University excursion that arranged to visit the Facility today. He seems to have taken a detour on his way to the bathroom.” 

Bucky stares at the snitch of a ceiling in disbelief. When he looks back down, both men are looking at him in amusement. 

“Good coffee, huh?” Steve asks, nodding his head towards the still-steaming mug on the other side of room.

Bucky swallows. “I... That’s not mine.” 

“JARVIS,” Steve begins. 

“Okay,” Bucky says quickly. “It’s mine. I was walking by and it smelled good, so.” He shrugs, shifting nervously. 

“Huh,” Tony says, cocking his head to the side a little. “Bold move. Anyway – I’m going to make my celebrity appearance before the rest of your peers. James, be a dear and deal with that mug, we clean up after ourselves around here.” 

And with that, Tony Stark flounces out. 

Bucky looks at the remaining superhero. Steve looks at Bucky. Bucky swallows.

“I’m really sorry–“ 

“You had anything to eat yet?” Steve asks. 

Bucky blinks, unable to follow the sudden change in direction. “...No?” he says – he’d pretty much stumbled out of bed and arrived here just in time for the tour to begin. He’d barely brushed his hair. 

“I was just about to head out for lunch,” Steve says. Bucky stares at his face for a long moment, caffeine slowly working his way into his bloodstream. He continues, when Bucky doesn’t respond, “If you’re hungry?” Bucky stands up straighter, looking right at him, his eyes narrowing. 

“I’m good,” he says.

“You sure?” Steve asks. 

“Look, I don’t want your pity meal,” he tells him, voice hard. “I’ll- I’ll pay you back for the coffee,” he says, although he’s not too sure of how. He’s in-between jobs at the moment and barely has two nickels to rub together, still waiting to hear back from one that he’d applied for a few days back, but shit, he’ll borrow if he needs to. There’s no way he’s letting Captain Condescension use _him_ to get his daily good deed in. 

“Really,” Steve says, something of a smile on his lips. “You’re gonna pay me back for half a single cup of coffee?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Bucky responds, doubling down. 

“If that’s what it takes for what, exactly?” 

“For you to quit looking at me like I’m some starving student who crawled in off the street. I can afford my own food.” Said food mainly consists of Ramen these days, with the occasional egg tossed in if he’s feeling particularly festive, but Generous Rogers doesn’t need to know that. 

“Listen, James–“ Steve begins. 

“Bucky,” Bucky corrects him with a scowl. Steve’s amusement seems to only grow, which makes Bucky’s bewilderment increase proportionately. Is the Star Spangled Man with a Plan secretly an asshole? 

“Bucky,” he repeats. “All I’m asking is whether or not you want some lunch. No pity here.” 

Bucky squares his jaw and says, “I said I’m good, thanks.”

Steve nods, and says, “Alright. It was nice meeting you, Bucky.” 

Bucky grumbles an approximation of a reply, and then Steve leaves him alone with a salute in Bucky’s direction, turning and going back the way he came. Bucky stands there doing his best to figure out what the entire fuck just happened before going to finish his syrupy coffee and clean his mug, like Tony asked. 

***

Two days later at around three in the morning while Bucky’s ranting to Natasha about the nerve of some superheroes, Natasha breaks his worldview and Bucky feels his veins fill with ice when she tells him that it sounds like Steve Rogers was was not trying to feed him because he felt bad for him but was actually _asking him out_. On a _date_. 

Natasha also tells Bucky that he’s an idiot, which. That’s more than fair. 

***

The day after that, Bucky finally hears back from the agency he’d put in a job application to, which at least helps him to stop moping and melodramatically listening to songs about _The One That Got Away_. 

It’s essentially a sanitation job which isn’t the most glamorous but neither is homelessness, so the interview invitation scheduled for a week from today is extremely welcome. He goes rummaging in his closet for his one pair of shoes that aren’t sneakers before being sucked into a Google-hole filled with people discussing proper counter-wiping technique, and binge-reading in preparation. 

***

At 10am on Friday, instead of going to class, Bucky goes to the address given to him in the email, knocks on the door, and is shocked and confused to be met by none other Tony Stark. 

“James,” Tony greets him, grinning in that mad-scientist way that makes Bucky slightly nervous, on top of the shock. “What a coincidence.” 

“What,” Bucky says. 

“Come on in,” Tony encourages, ushering him inside where a confused _Steve Rogers_ is sat, with what looks like a sketchbook on his lap, TV playing in the background. 

“Bucky?” Steve asks, confused.

Bucky knows the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says hurriedly, looking from Tony to Steve and back again. “I must have gotten the wrong address–“ 

“You got the right address,” Tony says. “You’re here for the housekeeping interview, right?” 

“...Yes,” Bucky says slowly. “Is this... your house?” 

“Actually, young James– or Bucky? Steve called you Bucky. Do you prefer Bucky?” 

Bucky nods slowly. 

“Bucky,” Tony says. “This is me taking action and giving Steve some much-needed aid and assistance. Via you.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Steve says, standing, while Bucky processes the fact that Tony had fabricated an employment agency just to find Steve some Help. “Tony, I _told_ you I’m f–“ 

“Steve, you’ve been working on your art so much lately you barely have time to eat. You’ve got a passion – that’s great! You deserve to throw yourself into that! Let me help you do that! Plus, Bucky here has an impressive resumé. He can _clean_. Give it a chance.” 

Bucky shifts nervously thinking about all the housekeeping experience he’d lied about on there. Desperate times. 

Steve seems to take three deep breaths, before turning to Bucky with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here. I had no idea about any of this–”

“Come on, he’s already here,” Tony interjects. 

“–I can pay for your ride back home if you–“ 

“I don’t want you to pay for my ride back home,” Bucky says. He has _bills to pay_ goddammit. He takes a deep breath of his own, and then stands up a little straighter. “Just– think about it, maybe? I sort of needed this job, and. It would help a lot if you just gave me a chance.” 

Steve looks at him, and softens a little. Tony places his hands on his hips, looking pleased with himself. 

“A win-win situation,” Tony says. “Bucky here makes a liveable wage, you inhabit a liveable home–“

Steve rolls his eyes. There’s something of a smile on his lips when he says, “So _now_ you want my money, huh?” 

Bucky does his best to not glower at his potential future employer. “If I’m earning it,” he tells him. 

“Huh,” Tony says. “So I’m sensing some backstory here, which, not my business, but time is money, so, Steve? You okay for me to interview?” 

Steve looks at Bucky, and then back at Tony, and then nods finally, waving a hand dismissively. “Alright. Fine. Interview away.” 

***

As far as jobs go, Bucky could actually have it much worse.

It’s not the most prestigious by any means, but the more time he spends there, the more he realises he’s somewhat lucky – if not for the pay, which is far above what anyone else would pay him for this type of work, for the chance to work for his boss who, in his eyes, is at least eighty percent of the appeal. A strong argument could be made for ninety depending on whether he’s shaved recently or not, and how much of a dick he’s currently being. 

He soon finds out that these days, Steve Rogers is a Captain-turned-artist who takes an odd sense of pride in how slowly he creates said art. Not that deadlines matter much to him, since he lives off his small fortune partially amassed from his time as a national icon, partially as his time as a SHIELD operative and former carrier of the shield itself. Plus Bucky figures the government still have him on their payroll in some sort of way on account of, you know, the two or three times he’s saved the world, and also the Universe once. 

Steve spends most of his time buying art and working on his own pieces, sometimes to sell off, sometimes to keep for himself, and sometimes Bucky watches him paint, or draw. At first, he’d glance away whenever Steve would look up and catch him staring, but then Steve had said, “You can watch if you like, Bucky, quit lurking, you’ve got me on edge here”. Bucky had huffed but also appreciated the open permission to gawk. That’s not all Bucky gawks at, but whatever. Steve’s a master with watercolours, yes, but he also has strong, capable hands and they’re distracting, okay. 

Every so often his brain will present himself with a helpful reminder that he could have maybe had those hands on him instead of being doomed to drool over them from afar.

The “experience” Bucky had listed on his resumé, as Steve soon found out, was truthfully limited to cleaning up around his grandma’s house for a few dollars when he was younger. He’s something of a bumbling mess at the start, but Steve seems to find it endearing in a way and doesn’t immediately send Bucky back out the way he came when Bucky finds out for the first time that mixing bleach with vinegar creates chlorine gas and nearly accidentally kills himself while trying to clean a spill on the floor. He instead sits through a gentle chiding from Steve which leaves him both ashamed and turned on but mostly turned on.

Within a few weeks, Bucky has actually saved enough to not be financially ruined by a daily high-quality coffee, and the humble Romanoff-Barnes apartment thank Steve for his healthy contribution to the rent. The work itself isn’t bad. And Steve is... Steve. 

Steve Rogers isn’t hard to look at, alright – that’s just a fact. Before taking this job, his attractiveness had always existed on the periphery of Bucky’s radar. Like yeah, if you asked Bucky if he’d fuck Captain America, of course he’d say yes, he’s not an idiot. But the idea of it never quite invaded his every waking thought like it does now.

***

“Hey,” Steve says as Bucky steps in through his front door. He’s sat in the living room, TV lowly playing the news while he sketches. He barely looks up when he says, “You’re late.” 

“Issues with the train,” Bucky explains, stepping into the room. “Won’t happen again.” 

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Won’t happen again, huh? Heard that one before.” 

“I’ll make sure to tell the conductor what’s at stake next time, sir,” Bucky says sweetly. “Maybe he’d work faster if he knew His Highness was waiting to get his floors shined.” 

“That’s _Captain_ His Highness to you,” Steve snarks back, glancing up at him through those long lashes, amused. “How was school? The other kids play nice?” 

“I’m in _college_ ,” Bucky says, and Steve grins. “And the other _kids_ and I got baked at lunch, so I’m starving.” 

“Telling your employer you’re still a little high, bold move.” 

“Are you gonna fire me?” Bucky challenges. 

“I think I’ll spare you this time.”

“You got anything in the fridge?” 

“Got some ingredients you can slap together,” Steve says, going back to his sketching. “You can make me something too while you’re at it.” 

Bucky huffs. “Not in my job description. What do I look like, some housewife?” 

“A paid one too,” Steve tells him, humour in his voice. “So get to work, I don’t got all day.” 

Bucky flushes a little, hiking his bag higher up on his shoulder and wondering _why the fuck that’s getting him hot_ – a useless question. The answer is usually “because Steve”. He makes himself roll his eyes, clearing his throat a little. Steve looks at him, lips curving into a smile like he _knows_. “I’m poisoning your food,” he tells him, before turning and making his way to the kitchen. 

Steve tells him, absently, smile in his voice “I’m immune to most poisons. You’d be giving me a stomachache at best.” 

“Good enough for me,” Bucky calls. 

Steve makes Bucky take a bite of his sandwich before he’ll touch it, eyes alight at his own joke. 

Bucky works himself to a shuddering release that night, biting down on one fist while he fucks into the other. 

***

He makes it to work on time the next day, calls out to Steve that he’s here when he arrives, but then hears the shower running upstairs so figures he can’t hear him, and also, now he’s picturing Steve wet and naked.

Bucky is, like Natasha said, a goddamn idiot. 

Bucky gets to work, opening Steve’s cutlery drawer and sitting on a stool by the island, polishing the water marks away because he needs to sit down and mope right now. 

A few minutes later, the shower shuts off. Several more minutes and Steve’s coming downstairs. 

“You might need to stay a little later tonight,” Steve says, wandering into the kitchen while fastening the cufflinks on his left sleeve. “I’m having guests over.”

Bucky looks up and he’s wearing a suit, and that, coupled with the beard... Christ. 

“Business?” Bucky asks, clearing his throat and resuming his polishing of the silverware. 

“Pleasure,” Steve replies, voice low. Bucky takes a breath, even just at that – look, it’s been a long couple of weeks, alright – and Steve continues, “Meeting some buyers first though, so, monkey suit it is. You got class tomorrow?” he asks, looking up from his cuff.

“Bright and early,” Bucky tells him, gaze flicking over Steve again, from his well-tailored shirt and blazer, to his fitted pants. Bucky is tested every single day he works here, he swears to God. “You gonna write me a note to explain to my professors why I’m falling asleep in Tech 101?”

“I’ll make sure you have enough to buy yourself a coffee in the morning.”

“God, you’re so good to me,” Bucky says drily. 

“Come help me with this?” Steve asks, stepping closer, holding up his wrist and the cufflink. “Driving me insane.”

Bucky knows the feeling. “What would you do without me,” he murmurs. He drifts over to stand in front of Steve, glancing up for a second to get a look at his face up close, before taking Steve’s wrist and pinning the cufflink through the loops on his sleeve. 

“Doesn’t even bear thinking about. Might have to actually start doing my own dishes.”

“The horror,” Bucky breathes, and Steve laughs, low and warm.

He smells so good Bucky wants to bury his face in his chest and inhale. He forces his useless gay fingers to finish the job and let go, and then steps away again before he actually starts to entertain the idea.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve says, then grabs his car keys from the bowl on the counter. Another thing that drives Bucky a little crazy is that Steve has a _car_. In _New York_. Yes, he knows, multi-millionaire, ex-Captain America, whatever, whatever – the point is, Bucky wants Steve to do things to him in that Audi. Sex things. He has very specific fantasies. “Pizza in the fridge if you want it,” Steve calls on his way out.

“Oh, you’re feeding me scraps now?” Bucky calls out.

“Lucky I’m feeding you at all,” Steve says, before leaving, front door shutting behind him.

Bucky swallows, takes two deep breaths, and then goes back to polishing.

Natasha says it’s not possible to die from sexual frustration but Bucky’s not so sure.

The thing that gets him the most is that this _could_ , potentially, happen, if he’d stop being a coward and actually had this conversation with Steve. But then a part of him feels like that’s what Steve wants – which, on one hand makes sense since _Bucky_ had been the one to reject him, and Steve could just be being decent by not making another move. But Steve Rogers, unbeknownst to most, is a little shit, and Bucky somehow feels like Steve is laughing at his predicament, waiting for Bucky to come crawling back any second now. Bucky looks melodramatically at his reflection in the spoon he’s cleaning. They’re all near-spotless, but it’s something that hasn’t been done in a while, and he’s got a couple of hours left to go anyway, so there’s no rush to get everything done. The house tends to stay clean, for the most part – Steve isn’t a slob, but things tend to pile up when no-one attends to them. 

Steve lives alone, but sometimes he has people over for art viewings or business meetings or just to hang, like tonight, and that’s when Bucky’s services are most needed, when he needs to be around for the longest. One time Steve had joked about getting him in one of those black and white maid outfits and Bucky had nearly blacked out. But then other times he treats him so platonically that Bucky’s left wondering if Steve is even aware that he has genitalia. 

***  
   
Steve comes home late. Bucky hears the small crowd at the door before it opens, and he rolls off the sofa, turning off the TV, pretending at least for Steve’s guests that he wasn’t just lying there watching _Real Housewives_ while eating leftover pizza off a napkin.

The door opens and Bucky greets them with a “Hi.” Tony’s right behind Steve as they come in, sending Bucky a salute.

“Buckaroo, hows it going. Still slaving away in Rogers’ castle, huh?”

“You hired me,” Bucky reminds him.

Tony waves his hand. “Semantics. You’re doing a great job, by the way.” He points at the bowl on the coffee table. “Is that potpourri? Is that new? I know Steve didn’t buy that of his own free-will.”

Bucky shrugs. “It was already there.”

“Yeah, when he bought the place it was there, and it was a year old and scentless last I saw it. You refreshed it. You’ve been refreshing it, haven’t you?”

“Every two weeks,” Steve tells him from the sofa, where he’s led the rest of their company and sat down, hair a little ruffled now. “Went on about it ‘til I’d let you, didn’t you, Buck?”

Bucky shrugs. “I told you it’d make it smell nicer in here, and it does. Brings the room together.”

“An interior designer!” Tony crows. “God, it’s hard to find good help, but I did a fantastic job. Didn’t I do a fantastic job?”

“Are we gonna sit around sucking you off all night?” Sam asks.

“Well if I get to choose–“

“We’re not gonna sit around sucking you off all night,” Steve decides, before turning to Bucky and saying, “You can take an early night, Bucky.”

“You don’t want me to stick around to clean up and stuff?” Bucky asks.

Steve waves a hand, smiling warmly. “I’ve got it. You’ve got class. Get to bed.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then clears his throat, and says, sounding less like some fainting Miss. “Okay. Thanks.”

“You need your rest,” Steve says, flicking on the TV. Bucky sees the glimmer of a smile on his face when it continues to play _Real Housewives_ , and his heart feels warm because it’s almost like an inside joke or something. 

He’s taking what he can get here, alright. 

“Right, he’s a growing boy,” Sam says in agreement with Steve, wandering into the kitchen, presumably in search of beer and or food. Bucky swallows the lump in his throat.

“I’m twenty, not twelve,” he says, doing his best to not sound petulant. “Not exactly much growing left to do.”

“Never know. Some German scientists might get their hands on you and–” Tony mimics an explosion with his hands and says “– _whoooosh_.”

Steve snorts, then looks at Bucky. “You want a ride?”

If hearts could have boners.

Bucky shakes his head. “Train’s fine. I wanna walk. It’s not bad out.” He also doesn’t want to be in The Car alone with Steve and his Nice Smell and his Undone Top Three Buttons and his Thick Beard while he’s feeling this fragile in his belief in his self-control.  
   
***

A walk and a train ride later, Bucky walks into his comparatively tiny kitchen and says, “Hey,” as casually as he possibly can.

Natasha’s gaze zeroes in on him like a predator on its prey. “What are you doing back?”

“It’s ten,” Bucky says.

“And your shift wasn’t meant to end ‘til midnight,” she says, righting herself on the sofa in order to subject him to the full weight of her stare. Bucky doesn’t deign to inform her that Steve had previously wanted him to stay even later before reconsidering, because he’s not an idiot. Natasha smirks. “ _Steve_ send you home again?” She asks, saying Steve’s name like it’s a dirty word.  
   
Bucky sighs deeply. “Yeah. Just being nice, I guess? He knows I’ve got class in the morning.” 

After a beat, Natasha says, “Bucky, I know Steve’s been giving it to you good, and by ‘it’ I mean a working experience that doesn’t make you want to jump out a window, but let me remind you that in the real world, under the cold hands of Capitalism, usually, bosses don’t give a shit about your personal commitments. They also usually dock your pay for missed hours, which, I take it Steve doesn’t.”

Bucky heaves a deep sigh and nods, plodding over to the sofa to slump next to her. “Sam called me a ‘growing boy’ today,” he says morosely, because he needs to mope about _something_.

He can hear Natasha’s eye-roll when she says, “He’s teasing. You’re two years past legal. Three soon. Steve would hardly be robbing the cradle if he... well, robbed your cradle, so to speak. Plus he asked you out once already.” 

Bucky nods, eyelids already starting to droop a little. “I know. I know. But why can’t he just ask me out _again_. It’d make things so much easier.” 

“Crazy thought – why don’t _you_ ask _him_ out.” 

“I’m not gonna give that asshole the satisfaction.” 

Natasha snorts. “I thought he was nice?” 

“He is,” Bucky says, sighing. “The nicest asshole I’ve ever met.”

“Maybe you two could meet in the middle,” she suggests. 

“Hm,” Bucky hums, resting his head on her shoulder. “Maybe. You’re wise, Natasha. I ever tell you how wise you are?”

“Not enough, Bucky,” she sighs, hitting _play_ on her movie again. “Not enough.”

***  
   
After class, Bucky heads to work, an hour before he’s technically meant to be there. He had previously planned to spend the hour studying for the test he has later in the week, but instead decides to go ahead to Steve’s, prepacked swimsuit heavy in his book-bag.  
   
***

Bucky has some semblance of experience in the field of flirting. 

Generally, he’s okay at this. 

His method of letting another party know that he’s interested is a little clumsy in that it consists mostly of him presenting himself as _available_ to the extent that there’s a hint of desperation, sort of, like he’s walking around with _stick it in me_ written on his forehead. He likes to think of it as more of straightforwardness without being all the way straightforward but whatever, it gets the job done. And anyway, if Bucky were to be pegged as desperate for anyone, it’d be for Steve, so. This is about right.  
   
When he hears him approaching, Bucky surfaces from where he’s been backstroking for the better part of an hour to work out his restless nerves, hands scraping his hair out of his face. Steve is standing there, at the edge of the pool, eyes a little dark. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Having fun?” Steve asks after a second, an eyebrow quirked in amusement. 

Bucky had been eyeing Steve’s pool wistfully for weeks but never asked Steve if he could use it because the thought of splashing around half-naked in Steve’s vicinity made him break into a sweat. The reality is similarly sweaty, and also holds the potential of Steve reacting badly and getting mad, but such is the intensity of his thirst. Luckily, the water’s cool.

“Is this okay?” Bucky responds, trying hard to sound calm, bobbing in the water. “Shift doesn’t start for a little while, and it was hot out.”

“By all means, feel free,” Steve tells him. Bucky bobs closer, towards the shallow end of his pool, torso further emerging from the water. 

“You’re back early,” he says, blinking up at Steve as it he hadn’t checked his schedule and known that his 4pm meeting was finishing at 5, instead of 6, as of this Monday. He squints against the sun.

“Meeting ended early,” Steve says, and then quickly – very, very quickly, his eyes flash down over Bucky’s newly exposed skin, and then back up to meet Bucky’s. 

Something akin to giddiness comes slowly over Bucky. 

“This what you do when I’m not home?” Steve asks.

“Oh this is nothing,” Bucky says, lips tugging upwards in a smirk, emboldened. “Sometimes, there are parties.”

Steve snorts a little. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky replies. “This place is serving the class of 2021 _amazingly well_. Figured you’d be cool with it.”

“So long you clean up after everyone afterwards, you can do whatever you like,” Steve tells him, dry. 

“Don’t see why I have to,” Bucky says breezily. “You pay me to clean up your mess, no one ever said anything about my own.” He’s arguing just for the sake of it now. Because Steve always gets this glint in his eye when he does. Bucky always thought it was amusement, that Steve just likes joking around for the hell of it too, but the way he looked at him, just now – and he _did_ look, his eyes _wandered_ – it makes Bucky think maybe, _maybe_ it could be something else.

Bucky’s been told he has a smart mouth and he’d more than love for Steve to shut him up. 

Steve looks at him for a second longer, and then says, “You wanna keep spending my money on those tiny shorts you like to wear, you’ll clean up after yourself.”

Bucky internally thrills at the knowledge that Steve _has_ noticed the general length of his shorts over the course of his employment, heat creeping through his body slowly. “You think they’re tiny?” he asks, looking down at the pair he’s currently got on like he doesn’t know. He looks back at Steve, and asks, “Want a closer look?” 

Steve holds his gaze, amused smile never leaving his lips, and then he says, “You’d like that, huh?”

Bucky gives a small shrug, heart thudding. “So what if I would?” Steve looks at him for another long moment, an unreadable expression on his face, and Bucky asks, “What?”

Steve shakes his head. “Nothing. Its just cute, is all. That you think you can bat your eyelashes at me, show a little skin, and I’ll come running. That work on the boys at college, Buck?” 

Bucky’s mouth is suddenly dry. “Uh,” he says, speechless. 

“Because it’s not gonna work on me,” Steve tells him, smiling pleasantly. “If you want something, you ask for it. That clear?” 

Bucky, shell-shocked, nods. 

Steve says, “Good,” before turning and strolling back into the house with a glance at his watch and a, “Shift starts in twenty.”

Bucky floats along for fifteen of those minutes, doing his best to mentally will his dick soft again.

***  
   
Bucky towels himself as dry as he can get and comes back into the house through the door that leads into the kitchen, his hair wet and his body warm from the sun. Steve’s in there, leaned against the counter, on his phone, talking to someone who sounds vaguely important. He looks up when Bucky enters, and Bucky looks away, scuttling up the stairs to get his bag out of the guest room and go put some goddamn clothes on. 

He’s not gonna ask. He’s not gonna come crawling back just to fuel Steve’s ego. He’s not going to give him what he wants. He’s _not_. 

What _does_ Steve want from him, anyway? For Bucky to ask him out? On a date? Does he want to be wooed? Does he want flowers or something? Bucky’s over it. Steve’s being ridiculous and Bucky is forgetting this ever happened. He’s here to do a blatantly overpaid job and that’s _it_.

***

Two days later, Steve comes into the kitchen to see Bucky carrying around a Tech textbook while he wipes down surfaces, and frowns. 

“What’re you doing?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowed. 

Bucky looks up. “Studying,” he says, confused at the look on Steve’s face. “I’ve got this test tomorrow and–“ 

“You’ve got a test? Jesus, go study, forget the counters.” 

“Oh,” Bucky says, heart growing half a size against his will. “Are you sure?” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “I think I’ll survive without you sanitizing every surface in my home for the next day or so.” 

Bucky nods, setting down the dust-rag in his hand. “Uh. Okay, then. Thanks. I’ll just get to the library–“ 

“I’ll drive you,” Steve says, picking his keys up. “Faster that way.” 

Bucky is not ready to be in that Audi. 

“I don’t mind getting the train–“ Bucky tries. 

“I know you don’t,” Steve says, and Bucky sees The Eyebrow raise and knows Steve’s got his mind made up. “But I’m gonna drive you.”

“Pushy,” Bucky mutters, shutting his textbook and taking a few deep breaths. 

“Time-efficient,” Steve corrects. 

“Sir yes sir,” Bucky replies, grabbing his book-bag and making his way to the garage. 

***

The first few minutes of the car journey are quiet, aside from the radio playing on low. The engine barely gives a murmur, of course, and the windows are tinted almost black, which injects dirty thoughts right into Bucky’s mind. Bucky picks at a hangnail on his left thumb and breathes in the smell of Steve’s cologne. The car’s nice inside too, all white leather and gloss. Bucky shifts in his seat. 

“You’re quiet. That’s a change,” Steve says. Bucky looks up to see Steve already looking at him. 

“Eyes on the road,” he says, looking away again. “It’s a nice car but I don’t wanna die in it.” 

“There it is,” Steve says, smiling a little. “What’s wrong? Nervous about your test?” 

More painfully sexually frustrated than nervous, Bucky nods anyway. “A little,” he says. “The Professor’s tough.”

“You’ll be fine,” Steve says. “You’re smart.” 

“Oh yeah?” Bucky challenges. “Pick that up while I was dusting lampshades?” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’ve known you long enough to know you’re far from an idiot. You know what you’re doing.” Steve glances at him. “Academically, at least.” 

“I know what I’m doing, period,” Bucky says defensively, reddening. 

“Uh-huh,” Steve says, unconvincingly. 

“Look, you don’t get to make demands and then call me dumb when they’re not met,” Bucky says, heated. “Just because I won’t ask you out or whatever–“ 

“I’m not calling you dumb,” Steve says. “And I’m not demanding anything of you. What I _am_ saying is you’re making yourself crazy, and I don’t like games. I like clear-cut statements.” 

“That’s so hot,” Bucky deadpans. 

“Way you’ve been acting, I wouldn’t be surprised if you meant that.”

Bucky reddens and can’t even deny it because Steve deciding that they’re going to do this on his terms is making him feel warm all over and yes, fuck Steve, but also, God, he wants to fuck Steve. So he waits until Steve pulls into a space and parks it, and then he, _tired_ of Steve’s stupid smirking face, leans over and kisses him, hand on Steve’s shoulder, pulling him that little bit closer, Steve’s lips soft and warm against his. Steve makes a humming noise in his throat, wrapping a hand loosely around Bucky’s throat and pulling away, just like Bucky knew he would. Steve grins. “You got a thing for being turned down?” 

“God, _fuck_ you,” Bucky says, voice pitched higher than he’d prefer. 

“You got something you wanna say to me, Buck?” Steve asks, looking at him expectantly. His hand is still on Bucky’s throat so he feels him swallow, and his lips curve into a smile. 

Bucky takes a deep breath. 

“Look,” he says, slowly. “That day – at the Avengers Facility – I thought you were just trying to do some charity work. I had no idea you were even into guys. If you asked me now... my answer would be different, alright?” 

“Yeah?” Steve asks. “You saying you _have_ got a crush on me?” he says, enjoying this way too much. 

“I’m saying I like you,” Bucky says, gritting his teeth, his tone contrasting with his words so much it’s comical. “A lot. Are you happy now?”

Steve sighs. “I don’t know, Buck, I pictured more grovelling–“ 

“You’re an asshole,” Bucky says. Steve grins, and then he leans in, a hand curved around the back of Bucky’s neck, and kisses him. It should come as no surprise that on top of being the former Captain America, saving the world several times over and having devastatingly good looks, Steve Rogers can fucking kiss. Bucky gasps and Steve pulls him closer, nips at Bucky’s lower lip and licks into his mouth. Bucky’s sighs, leaning so far over the console he’s nearly in Steves lap, desperate for more. Steve is warm and solid, big hands on Bucky’s waist, holding him in place. Bucky rolls his hips against Steve’s, arousal flooding through him, warm and heady, then reaches down to fumble with his belt before Steve stops him, a hand of top of Bucky’s. 

“Mm,” Steve hums, pulling away. Bucky leans in again and Steve takes his chin and holds him still. “You have a test to study for,” he says, and Bucky blinks in confusion before remembering why exactly they’re in this car. 

“It’s not that important–“ 

“Yes, it is,” Steve says, sounding annoyingly composed. “Come on, this is your future we’re talking about.” 

Bucky groans.“It’s just a test–”

“A test you’re not gonna do badly in ‘cause of me.”

Bucky huffs, sitting back a little, brushing his hair out of his face. He narrows his eyes at Steve, who’s looking more than pleased with his handiwork. “God, you’re evil. Did you do this on purpose?” 

“You remember who kissed who first, right?” Steve asks. Bucky, not quite ready to give up yet, presses himself closer again. 

“But Steve,” he wheedles. “I won’t be able to concentrate in there without it, and the windows are tinted anyway,” he says. 

Steve huffs a laugh. “You’re trouble.”

“Come on, we’ll be fast,” Bucky murmurs. “And then I’ll study my heart out, I swear.”

“That how you want it? Fast?” Steve asks, voice low. 

Bucky shivers. “Yeah, Steve, come on–“ 

“Jesus, you want it bad,” Steve murmurs, voice just this side of tight. Bucky’s just about to congratulate himself when Steve says, “I need you to get in there and focus on studying, alright?” 

“But–“ 

“Alright?” Steve repeats. 

Grumbling, Bucky mutters an, “Okay,” sliding all the way back into his own seat. 

“Good,” Steve says, letting out a long breath. “And then after your test tomorrow, you’re gonna come to mine and I’m gonna give you what you _really_ want instead of getting you off as fast as I can in a parking lot like I’m one of your little college hookups. That sound like a plan?” 

Bucky swallows. “Jesus,” he breathes. “You can’t just _say_ shit like that, holy shit–“

“‘Course I can,” Steve grins. “Now get in there and do some work.” 

Bucky sighs deeply, then rights himself in seat, adjusting his shirt, fixing his hair. “You’re the worst,” he mutters. 

“I apologise for giving a shit about your education,” Steve says sombrely. 

“Good,” Bucky responds. “ _Tomorrow_ ,” he repeats. 

“I’m all yours,” Steve assures him. 

Bucky nods, looks at Steve one last time, and heads off into the library to undergo one of the hardest, pun intended, study sessions of his life. 

***

Bucky’s Friday shift begins while Steve’s out for a meeting, so Bucky takes the liberty of bringing his swim-shorts along and plunging himself back into the pool. 

The water’s refreshingly cool on his overheated skin. He’d concentrated for just about as long as he needed to, but as soon as he had put his pen down earlier, his mind had become a wasteland of sin. He floats along, thinking about Steve’s hands on him and wondering what it’ll feel like to get pinned down by a man who can lift buses. 

He hears the front door unlock, hears Steve make his way into the kitchen, then outside until he’s standing there, and Bucky’s in the pool staring up at him and yeah, his eyes are definitely darker than usual. 

“Having fun?” Steve asks. 

“Well,” Bucky says. “Could be better.” 

“Come inside,” Steve says, turning and walking back the way he came. Bucky takes a breath, before making his way out of the pool, hurriedly towelling himself as dry as possible and following after him. 

As soon as Bucky shuts the door behind him, and turns around, Steve is on him, pushing him up against it. Bucky groans, arching against him, and Steve’s hands roam, touching him everywhere before settling on his ass, squeezing, groping. 

“Ngh,” Bucky chokes, cock fattening so quickly it makes him lightheaded. He grinds against Steve, and Steve kisses him deeper, fucking his mouth with his tongue. Bucky whines low in his throat – he’s so far gone, he could come just from this. 

Steve hums in acknowledgment of the needy little sounds forcing their way out of Bucky, pulling him closer so his body’s bowed against his. “How was your test?” he murmurs, kissing his way down Bucky’s neck. 

“It–“ Bucky gasps, cut off by a moan. “G-good.”

“‘It good’, huh?” 

“Steve,” Bucky moans. 

“What the matter, hm? What do you want?” he asks, voice husky. Bucky spares two or three braincells to realise Steve was fucking holding out on him in the car yesterday. 

“I,” Bucky pants, head falling against the door as Steve lowers his head to suck a mark into his neck, just below his jaw. “I– _ah_ – fuck, Steve,” he breathes. 

“Where’s all that lip you’ve usually got, hm?” Steve asks, lips by his ear. He slides a hand down Bucky’s chest, palms at his cock. “Come on, baby, tell me what you need.” 

Bucky _whimpers_ , squirming under Steve’s touch. “Please,” he breathes. “More, want it– Steve, please–“ 

“That’s it,” Steve says in a murmur, feeling him up. “Good boy.” 

Bucky chokes, part of his brain short-circuiting at the endearments. 

“Fuck,” he whines. 

Steve says, smile in his voice, “Like that, huh?” 

Bucky nods shakily before Steve leans down, hands gripping under Bucky’s thighs and picking him up off the ground. Bucky wraps his thighs around Steve’s waist, hands in Steve’s hair while he moves them upstairs, kicking his door open and laying Bucky down on his bed. 

Bucky kisses him hungrily, hands on Steve’s shoulders, travelling down his back, pulling him closer. Steve pulls back just a little, looking at him, hand on the side of Bucky’s face and Bucky turns his head, opens his mouth and sucks on Steve’s thumb, tongue swirling around it. Steve lets him for a long moment, and then pulls it away, slow, rubs it over Bucky’s lower lip. 

“I ever tell you what a goddamn cocktease you are?” Steve asks him, voice thick with lust. Bucky flushes even more than he already has, the blunt words hitting him warm and heavy. 

“I’m not a–“ Bucky begins, arguing for the sake of it. 

“No one,” Steve says, hooking his thumbs in Bucky’s shorts and dragging them slowly down his body. “And I mean not a man alive, needs to have his ass that high in the air while he’s cleaning the goddamn floor.” 

Bucky gasps in indignation, reddening. “I was just doing my job, not my fault if you were sexualising me the whole time– 

“And that’s just to _start_ with. I mean, these?” Steve continues, cutting him off, getting the shorts all the way off and holding up the skimpy swimwear before flinging them behind him. “You thought you were gonna break me in these? I’ve seen you parade around in worse, wore a fucking crop top last week–“

“It was hot out–“ 

Steve huffs a laugh, and wraps a hand around Bucky’s cock. Bucky’s words stick in his throat, arching into the warm, firm touch. Steve fists his cock rough, fast, and it makes Bucky gasp, makes him shudder and leak, getting Steve’s hand messy. He can barely even find it in himself to be embarrassed about how much his cock is drooling, just arches and fucks the tight circle of Steve’s fist. 

“If you’d have just used your words,” Steve continues, while Bucky moans, rendered incapable of speech. “Could’ve been making you feel this good all this time. Smart mouth when it comes to everything but asking for it, huh?” Steve says, and leans over Bucky’s body just a little to tug open a drawer on the nightstand. 

“ _Unh_ ,” says Bucky. 

“I know, honey,” Steve says, comforting-like, popping what sounds like a bottle cap. “I know.” 

“Steve,” Bucky whimpers. 

“I’ve got you,” Steve breathes, eyes on Bucky’s face so he can see Bucky’s mouth fall open, see his eyes glaze as he stretches him out on a finger. “Yeah, that’s good, Jesus, you’re tight. You a virgin, honey?” he teases, and Bucky flushes, so of course Steve continues, “That’d explain it, huh? Never had anyone show you what men do to little minxes like you?” 

“Holy fuck,” Bucky hears himself moan, breathy, flushing all over.

Steve grins and goes slow, leaning down to kiss him, hot and heavy like he’s fucking him already. When Bucky starts making needy noises, helpless, uncontrollable noises low down in his throat, Steve adds another finger, and then another, until he’s stretching him out on three, pressing them deep and then curling them until they’re brushing against his prostate, making the edges of Bucky’s vision gray out. Bucky pulls away from the kiss, chest burning, heart thudding. “Please, _please_ –“ 

“What do you want, hm?” Steve asks, and Bucky flushes despite himself – it’s ridiculous that he’s even hesitating to say it, Steve’s fingering him for fucks sake. “Come on, tell me what you want,” Steve murmurs, and a part of Bucky takes a thrill in the fact that he likes to watch Bucky squirm, likes watching the blush rise on his cheeks like this. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Bucky breathes, frustrated, desperate. 

“Again,” Steve murmurs, lips on Bucky’s neck now, thick fingers fucking into him, hitting his spot. 

“Fuck me,” Bucky pleads, voice pitched higher in desperation. “Please, I– you’re gonna make me– wanna come with you in me, Steve–“ 

“Mm,” Steve hums. “That what you want? My cock inside of you?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky whines, rolling his hips, desperate. “Yeah, want it, want it in me, please, _please_ ,” Bucky says, panting, hot all over at Steve making him beg like this, making him feel dirty, wanton. 

“What do you want?” Steve asks. “Gotta tell me if you want it.” 

“Want your cock inside me,” Bucky moans. “ _Please_.”

“There you go,” Steve murmurs, sounding smug, but Bucky doesn’t even care, just arches against him, wanting more. Steve finally pulls his own shirt off and Bucky stares openly while he rids himself of his pants too, hands all over Steve’s back when he situates himself back over Bucky’s body, fingers digging into the muscle while Steve positions himself and fucks into him. 

Bucky sucks in a breath as Steve bottoms out, groaning softly, eyes flickering from where they’re joined to Bucky’s face. “Oh my God,” Bucky whimpers, blunt nails digging into Steve’s skin. “Steve, _fuck_.” 

“God, that’s sweet,” Steve breathes, pulling out a little before burying himself inside again. “Jesus, Bucky, the _sounds_ you make–”

“O- _oh_ ,” Bucky pants, breathless as Steve starts to fuck him, feeling sweat start to bead at his hairline, his brow furrowed, panting. Steve moves faster, hips rolling into him, stretching Bucky out, and Bucky feels full, so fucking full it’s overwhelming. Bucky’s mouth falls opens, gasping for it, moaning, “Steve, _Steve_ , give it to me, want it–“

Groaning low in his throat, Steve pushes Bucky’s knees up against his chest and starts to pound into him, so deep Bucky’s going crazy with it, breath catching, _God_ , he–

“Oh,” he hears himself gasp, vision blurring. “Oh– th-there, Steve, there,” he pants, body going lax, legs spreading impossibly wider. 

“Yeah?” Steve asks, voice smooth, low, fucking into Bucky’s prostate again. “Right there?”

“Uh-h – _ah_ ,” Bucky moans, as Steve does it again, and again, and again, “ _ah, ah, ah_.” 

“Look at that,” Steve croons, hands on Bucky’s waist, holding him in place so Bucky’s got nowhere to go, so all he can do is take it. Bucky moans, his hair falling into his face, headboard knocking against the wall, mouth open in an O as he gasps and pants. “So pretty for me, Jesus, take my cock so well.”

“I– _nnh_ ,” he groans in reply, fucked stupid, senseless. He can feel Steve inside him, every inch, hitting his spot relentlessly over and over, the weight of him on top of him pinning him down so there’s not a thing Bucky can do about it. “Gonna come,” he breathes. “Please– _please_ , _more_ Steve, Jesus please, yes.”

“You need it harder?” Steve asks. “That it? Can’t get enough, can you? Not happy ‘til you’re dumb with it, isn’t that right? You like getting fucked like a slut, Bucky?” Steve says, and Bucky moans, loud, Jesus _fucking_ Christ–

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, writhing. “Yeah, like it, God, yeah–”

“What do you like, hm?” Steve asks, nosing along his jaw. “What do you like?”

“Like getting f-fucked like a slut,” Bucky says, “Steve– _Steve_ –“

“Mm,” Steve hums, giving it to him harder, making sure Bucky _feels_ it. “See how easy it is when you tell me what you need, hm, baby?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky whines, breathless, single-minded focus on Steve, how fucking _good_ he’s giving it to him, Jesus Christ how did he ever live without this. “Yeah, _yes_ , fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–“

“Shh,” Steve shushes him, leaning down, the change in angle making Bucky mewl, and Steve hums, sounding pleased, like he likes that Bucky can’t tell up from down right now. Steve kisses him, licking hot into his mouth and Bucky kisses back, pliant and breathless while Steve grinds into him, slow, deep. Bucky doesn’t even realise there have been tears leaking out of his eyes until Steve wipes at his cheeks Bucky chokes on a sob, it sticks in his throat, and Steve croons, “That’s it, let go for me, good boy.” 

Bucky loses it. With Steve pounding him into the mattress, he chokes out a stuttered cry of his name and comes so hard it shocks him, has him choking out sobbed cries. Steve fucks him through it, head ducked into Bucky’s neck, biting, sucking. He doesn’t stop, hammering into him while Bucky mewls, kitten-ish noises falling out of his open mouth as Steve chases his own release. Bucky’s sensitive now, writhing, tightening around Steve with each thrust, taking it until he’s burying himself deep and coming too. Bucky moans softly, his muscles twitching weakly around him. With a low hum, Steve slowly pulls out of him. Bucky shivers at this sudden emptiness, and Steve presses a kiss to his mauled neck. Bucky briefly contemplates the fact that he’s going to have to wear turtlenecks in the summer. Steve rolls them over so Bucky’s on top of him, a hand in his hair. 

“Hey,” Bucky says, voice hoarse. 

“Hey yourself,” Steve replies. Bucky laughs to himself a little, and Steve asks, “What?”  
   
“Nothing,” Bucky says, and Steve digs a thumb into his rib, meaning it to tickle. It does, and Bucky yelps, and says “It’s just – I just fucked my boss. That’s... pretty surreal”

“Oh,” Steve says, amused. “Well, obviously, you’re fired,” Steve says. 

“What?” Bucky says, squinting up at him. 

“I can’t sleep with my employee. Continuously. And I know you’re not gonna let me keep paying you your wages–“

“Uh,” Bucky said, mind still reeling from his orgasm and apparent sudden unemployment.

Grinning, Steve tells him, “I got you an internship – with better pay. At Stark Industries. You have a lot of potential in your field. Shouldn’t be wasted shining floors.”

“Oh,” Bucky breathes after a moment, unsure of how to react to his dream career being handed to him on a silver platter like this. The post-orgasm euphoria washes over him once more. “Thank you,” Bucky says, quiet but earnest. Steve kisses the top of his head. 

“Shower?” 

“After round 2 already?” Bucky questions, grinning lazily. “Take a guy out to dinner first.” 

“Mm. Later,” Steve says, hand running down Bucky’s body. “Not done with you just yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> the beast has been defeated 
> 
> we will soon resume our regularly scheduled pwp


End file.
